


Bachata

by mitslits



Series: Prompts [63]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Bachata dance, M/M, Pining, undercover confession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 15:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12634116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/mitslits
Summary: I'm wondering if you'd please write a Merlahad prompt? Thank you!: pining!Harry and pining!Merlin have to go undercover for once as bachata dance partners. Neither know how to dance to bachata (just their luck it's an intimate dance) and are awkwardly trying to teach each other, getting irritated and embarrassed until Eggsy has to help the two idiots out like "God don't be afraid to touch! You act like you have a crush". Later undercover they confess and find dancing intimately is a lot easier.





	Bachata

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i got hella creative with the title this time as you can tell

“Do you have any idea how to do this?” Harry asks, lips barely moving. He doesn’t look at Merlin as he does so; he doesn’t have to. He’ll hear him.

Merlin shakes his head fractionally. “Do you?”

“Of course I don’t.” Harry watches the couple on the dance floor in front of them.

 _They_ certainly know what they’re doing, all undulating hips and wandering hands.

Harry sighs quietly. He likes a challenge, but this is pushing it. On the surface, the mission doesn’t even seem that difficult. Infiltrate a bachata dancing competition, locate their guy, and take him out. The problem is that to enter a bachata dancing competition, one has to actually dance the bachata.

Until earlier that day, Harry hadn’t even known the dance existed, and it seems like Merlin is in the same position. “What the fuck are we supposed to do?” Harry asks just as the couple finishes up, chest to chest and breathing hard.

Merlin claps along with everyone else stony-faced. “I don’t know how to do this. But I think we know someone who might.”

-

Eggsy looks up with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Yeah, I know how bachata works. What do you wanna learn that for? You know it’s a sexy dance, right?”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “I know exactly what it is, thank you. I just don’t know how to actually do it.”

Harry nods, tilts his head towards Merlin. “I’m with him,” he says.

Eggsy’s eyes flit between the two of them. “So this is just for a case, yeah?” he asks, sounding a little too casually.

“Yes,” Merlin says. “Only for a case.”

Harry nods again. Merlin’s bluntness hurts slightly, which is ridiculous. Of course it’s just for a case. What else would it be for?

“Right, yeah,” Eggsy says. “Let me see what I’m working with, then.” He tilts his head toward the two of them expectantly.

Neither Harry nor Merlin move.

Essy arches his eyebrows. “That was me telling you to start dancing,” he prompts.

Harry sucks in a deep breath and turns to Merlin. “Shall we?”

“If we must,” Merlin sighs.

Telling himself that Merlin’s reluctance means nothing to him, Harry tries to recreate the position the dancers had been in. He grips Merlin’s hips for dear life. Merlin’s hold on him is equally demanding.

“And… move,” Eggsy says.

Both of them step forward at the same time, tangling their feet together and putting them chest to chest.

Instantly, Harry steps back.

Merlin moves forward with him, trying to make it resemble dancing even a little bit.

Eggsy watches them with a sort of awed horror, eyes wide. “Oh my god,” he whispers.

After a truly  disastrous attempt at recreating the dance they’d been watching earlier, Harry and Merlin stumble to a halt, breaking apart from each other the instant they stop moving.

Eggsy stares at them in stunned silence for a bit before clapping long and slow. “That was, without a doubt, the worst dancing I have ever seen in my life,” he says, wandering over to them. “I mean, really. That was worse than a junior high dance.”

“We get it,” Merlin snaps. “This is exactly why we asked you to help us. Will you do it or not?”

“Oh, you two definitely need help,” Eggsy snickers. “Harry first. I’ll show you how it’s done.” He steps up to Harry, grabs his hands, and settles them on his hips. He rests one on Harry’s shoulder, the other on the back of his neck. “Right, so I’ll take the lady’s part, ‘cause that’s the part Merlin’s gonna have.”

Merlin splutters. “Excuse me?”

Eggsy glances back over his shoulder. “You have surprisingly smooth hips. Now shut up and watch.”

Harry is distinctly aware of Merlin’s eyes on him as Eggsy takes him through the steps. It definitely goes better with a partner who actually knows what he’s doing, but Harry is somewhat relieved when they sweep to a halt. Somewhere along the way, Merlin’s gaze turned burning, and Harry feels sure he’s going to burst into flames any second.

Then Eggsy is stepping away from Harry and turning to Merlin. “You get all that? Need me to go through the dance with you, too?”

“No,” Merlin scowls. He strides forward and grabs at Harry again, this time adopting the Eggsy’s pose, hands on Harry’s shoulder, his neck. “Move.”

A bit startled by his determination, Harry moves.

They’re clumsy and awkward, but they’re _trying_. Eggsy makes (un)helpful comments from the sidelines whenever he feels like they’re messing up. Essentially, it’s an unending stream of, “Touch him! Pull him closer! Are you two fucking robots, or something? I ain’t feeling the passion.”

“Maybe he’d feel it if he shut up for a second,” Merlin grumbles in an undertone.

Harry laughs lightly and does his best to lead the way Eggsy taught him to. It’s slow going, but they eventually get through the dance.

Eggsy looks a bit pained, but he applauds again. “Better. Not great. Not gonna get you into a competition. But better.”

-

If there’s one thing to be said about spies, it’s that they persevere. Harry and Merlin spend hours doing nothing but going through the same dance over and over until they have every step, every beat memorized. They’re still stiff and don’t exactly look like they’re having a good time, but they can get through the dance without stepping on any toes or bumping into each other.

Harry does wish that Eggsy had never mentioned Merlin’s hips. He’s acutely aware of them now, how they move and sway as they dance together, and Eggsy was right: his movements are surprisingly smooth. One might even call them sexy.

The downside to having the dance down pat is that it gives Harry a lot of time to realize just how closely he and Merlin are pressed together. The other bad thing is that Harry doesn’t have the excuse of having to look at his feet anymore. Which means he’s free to stare at Merlin for three awkward movements as they sweep their way around the room.

Harry cannot wait for this mission to be over. He never wants it to end.

Time makes the decision for him. The competition arrives before Harry knows it, and he finds himself standing on the edge of the dance floor, Merlin right beside him. At least they aren’t the first couple. Harry doesn’t think he could handle that.

Thankfully, Harry doesn’t even have to watch a bunch of couples that are better than them dance. Instead, he focuses on locating their target. “There,” he says in an undertone, inclining his head ever so subtly in the direction of a tall man with a scar just above one eyebrow. “That’s our man.”

Merlin doesn’t say anything, but Harry knows he’s seen him by the way his eyes sharpen.

Harry has noticed a lot of things about Merlin recently. But he does _not_ have time to think about that, especially not when their man slips off away from his partner.

As one, he and Merlin work their way through the crowd of couples after him. They trail him into a secluded back room with an unfortunate amount of open space.

The mark glances around, eyes landing on Harry and Merlin and narrowing suspiciously.

“Shit,” Harry says just before Merlin pulls him in and presses their lips together. Harry’s eyes fly wide open in surprise, and they stay that way until Merlin pulls away.

“Damn, he’s gone,” Merlin says, glaring around the newly deserted room. “At least I got to kiss you.”

Harry’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “I beg your pardon?”

Merlin glances at him side-long. “At least I got to kiss you,” he repeats.

“Implying you wanted to kiss me,” Harry says. How does Merlin look so unfazed by this? He’s just tilted Harry’s world on its axis and now he’s all cool and suave? Highly unfair.

“For quite a while now, yes,” Merlin says, absently looking around to see where the mark could have gotten off to.

Well. That explains the lack of surprise. Harry blinks. “You did a bloody good job of hiding it.”

Snorting, Merlin shakes his head. “Honestly, Harry, you’re a terrible spy. Why the hell did you think I put the two of us on this mission together?” He turns to face him fully, arms folded across his chest, one eyebrow arched.

“Because…” Harry falters. “Because you thought I might know how to dance the bachata?”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Because if someone had to dance bachata with you, it was going to be me.”

One side of Harry’s mouth lifts into a smile. “So what I’m hearing is your possessiveness extends to more than your clipboard,” he says lightly.

Merlin’s scowl deepens, and he opens his mouth, probably to call Harry a bad spy again, when their numbers are called over the loudspeaker.

Harry holds out his hand to Merlin. “Care to dance?”


End file.
